


Lion Pride

by VoidTiger



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro Birthday Exchange 2019, SpaceFam and Shiro can't help being SpaceDad, broganes, foundfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidTiger/pseuds/VoidTiger
Summary: After the Team recovers the Yalexian Pearl while Allura continues to recover from healing the Balmera, Keith notices that Shiro's not coping as well after Sendak's attack as he initially led them to believe. Keith decides to try baking a cake to cheer up his friend, but things don't go as planned. Meanwhile, Shiro suspects that his friends are up to some sort of mischief that they're trying to keep secret from him and is determined to wait them out.OR...Keith tries to bake a cake. Hunk takes things to the extreme. Things go awry. Lance tries to run interference. Shiro smells a rat.





	1. Setup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mollo_tetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mollo_tetsu).



> Set after "Rebirth" and Vol1 Comics, but before and right up to the start of "Crystal Venom".  
> Betaed by tigercat2 on tumblr.

_“Oh come ON!!!”_

_“You’re supposed to be EGGS! Just break already!”_

_“Why. Won’t. This. Batter. STIR?!”_

Hunk’s stomach dropped. Shouting in his kitchen wasn’t ever a good sign. He winced at the telltale sound of a crash, followed by more cursing. Whatever language that was he was pretty sure was NOT English, and the Castle apparently didn’t feel the need to translate. Wait. Did the Castle feel? Whatever. Magic castle with space elves and giant mechanical cats. Adding “sentience” to the Castle still wouldn’t be the weirdest space-thing at this point.

_“AAAgh! That’s IT!!!”_

 Right. Kitchen, with a philistine ransacking it. Hunk steeled himself, then entered the fray.

“Uh, Keith? Anything I can do to—WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

“Ummm…” Keith stared wide eyed, then averted his gaze to study his shoes.

It looked, in short, like Keith set off his leftover firecrackers inside his mixing bowl. And was that foodgoo on the door?! Hunk _didn’t_ yelp whatsoever when he didn’t feel something cold and wet and slimy drip from the ceiling and slide down his nape underneath his collar. Hunk DID, however, audibly groan at the site of something runny and sticky-smelling running off the countertops and into the seams between stove and surface.

“I—you— …okay, I can still fix this. Just…very, very slowly.” Hunk inhaled, then exhaled slowly. “Okay. I’m okay now. Keith?”

Keith crossed his arms and folded into himself as he continued to glower at the floor.

“C’mon, Keith. What were you doing in here?”

“Nothing,” Keith ground out.

“Um, not to state the obvious, but there’s goop on the ceiling.”

Keith set his chin and stared Hunk in the eye.

“Buddy, I can’t help if you don’t tell me what you were trying to make.”

“Well, MAYBE I don’t want your help, genius.”

Hunk internally winced, but crossed his arms. “Fine. But good luck cleaning up this mess on your own, and having whatever-that-is actually be edible.” The goop plopped onto a stack of discarded dishware, causing the entire structure to teeter ominously. A few more drops landed in Keith’s bangs before splattering onto the floor. Keith shifted in his shoes at Hunk’s deadpan expression. The stack crashed.

Keith’s shoulders slumped. “…FINE.”

Hunk brightened. “Great! So, uh, watcha makin’?”

Keith burrowed further into his chest. “mm mkin’ n’ ‘k f’r sh’rh,” he mumbled.

Hunk’s grin strained. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.”

Keith growled. “I SAID, ‘I’m making a cake for Shiro’!”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Hunk gushed. “…wait. Why a cake?”

Keith sighed. “I…well…he… Shiro’s done so much for me, but I don’t know how to thank him. And he’s kinda seemed, not quite here? Since, you know. Sendak."

“…Oh,” Hunk trailed off awkwardly. “No offense, Keith, but just saying ‘thank you’ would’ve been easier.”

Keith huffed a sigh. “I’m…not exactly great with words?”

“Got it. But still, _why a cake?_ ”

“Don’t people normally make cakes to…show appreciation?”

Hunk snorted. “Sure, if this were a bad anime or a romcom.”

Keith colored. “What? No, I— You know what? Forget I asked. It was a stupid idea.”

Hunk bit the inside of his cheek to quell his amusement. “No it’s not. Well, I dunno if I would’ve tried a cake this soon. I don’t even know what half this stuff is, and I actually HAVE made a cake a thousand times.”

Keith burrowed further into his jacket. “See? Stupid idea. And now I’ve wasted food and screwed up your kitchen.”

Hunk clasped his hands behind him and rocked back on his feet. Right. That…didn’t come out right. Time to change tactics. And if Keith wanted to make a cake? Then darn it Hunk would figure out how to help his teammate make a cake! “No, it’s _not,”_ Hunk insisted. “Besides, I’ve gotta practice baking cakes at some point. Who knows how long we’re gonna be up in space? And there’s NO WAY I’m—“

Hunk grabbed Keith’s shoulders and squealed. “That’s it!!! Okay. We’re doing this and making it work, ‘cause I’m a chef, dangit!”

 Keith ducked out of Hunk’s embrace. “That’s…great? But, doing what?”

_<^>_

“Let me get this straight—“

Pidge snorted. “That’d be a first.”

“Stuff it, Pidgeon,” Lance growled.

“Make me, Facecream.”

“Guys, c’mon. This is for Shiro,” Hunk pleaded.

Pidge and Lance immediately sobered.

“Right…” Lance conceded. “But seriously. A cake?”

“Got a problem with that?” Keith glowered.

 Lance held his hands up placatingly. “No, not really. Just didn’t expect Keith to be that _domestic_.”

 “You got something to say?!” Keith snapped.

“Pot, kettle, black,” Pidge muttered.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Hunk bellowed. Three pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. Hunk flushed at the sudden scrutiny. “The cake’s only part of the surprise.”

“So…what’s the rest of it?” Pidge prodded.

“Beats me,” Keith shrugged. “Hunk dragged me here. Literally.”

“We’re going to throw Shiro a birthday party!” Hunk burst.

“Well, you’ve come to the right guy,” Lance smirked. “I put the ‘art’ in ‘party’.”

“…seriously?” Pidge scoffed.

“Yes!” Lance insisted. “I plan all my family’s birthday parties.”

“Congratulations. You’re officially an expert,” Keith drawled.

“THANK you. Which means I’m now officially in charge,” Lance said smugly.

“Wait. Why are YOU in charge?” Pidge demanded.

“Uh, ‘cause I’m the one with actual planning experience. Duh,” Lance said airily.

“Technically it was Hunk’s idea, though. AND he called the meeting,” Pidge countered.

“No offense, Buddy, but we’re currently in a cleaning closet,” Lance pointed out.

“Nnnn…but it seemed like the one place Shiro wouldn’t look for us,” Hunk whined.

“Yeah. It’d just set him up for a terrible pun, instead,” Pidge snorted.

“Hey! Just whose side are you on!” Hunk protested.

“’Sides? I am on nobody’s side. Because nobody is on MY side!’” Pidge crowed.

“Go jump in a fire, Treebeard!” Lance shot back.

“Yeah!” chimed in Hunk. “No equal opportunists allowed!”

Pidge cackled as she easily dodged out of Lance’s headlock. Lance bumped into a shelf, sending motes of dust and bottles of Altean cleaning supplies clattering to the floor. All four teens coughed and choked on the resulting cloud.

“See?” Lance wheezed. “Why _not_ Hunk.”

“I concede your point,” Pidge croaked. “So I’m in charge.”

“Because…?” deadpanned Keith.

“Who do you think’s gonna set up the AV equipment? _And_ I’m the one with all the GOOD music and actual movies,” said Pidge smugly.

“But, wouldn’t you be doing that anyway?” Keith asked.

“Good point,” Hunk agreed. “What about you, Keith? I mean, you started it.”

“ _NO,”_ Keith retorted immediately.

“Hmmm. Come to think of it, I’m going to be pretty busy making something edible and helping Keith with his cake,” Hunk mused. “Okay, I’m out. Guess it’s Lance.”

“ _YES!_ ” Lance cheered. “Wait. What do you mean ‘guess it’s Lance.’ Am I really you guys’ last pick?”

“Well, I mean, Shiro’s our first…” Hunk trailed awkwardly.

“Yeah, except it’s _for_ Shiro,” Lance said dryly.

“And you’re the Team Knucklehead,” Keith muttered.

“You wanna go, Mullet!” Lance snapped.

“Dudes! I think we—“ Hunk protested.

The door hissed open, sending Keith and Hunk tumbling backwards into the hall. “AHA!” shrieked Coran. “So _you’re_ the troubloons who made a mess of the kitchen! Thought you could hide me inside a cleaning closet, did we? Well, chop chop! Grab a bottle, rag, and bucket and follow me.”

 Lance opened his mouth.

“ _We KNOW!”_ Keith and Pidge hissed in tandem.

_<^>_

“Wow. For once Coran understated,” Pidge deadpanned.

“You don’t say,” Lance drawled.

 The kitchen, impossibly, looked even worse than when Hunk and Keith left it mere doboshes ago. Lance yelped as he skidded in the drying semitransparent film covering the floor. He windmilled both arms wildly before finally regaining his balance on the edge of the counter.

“Great…so Keith decides to be Betty Crocker and Hunk leaves his sanctuary looking like Kevin McCallister got let loose in the Castle,” Lance exclaimed. “Buddy, this isn’t like you. What about ‘the kitchen is a sacred space between chef and food’ and all that?”

Hunk squirmed. “I wasn’t going to _leave_ it… but I had to get the idea out while it was still fresh, and—“

“’It’s for Shiro’, we know,” Pidge and Lance chimed dully.

“Less chatter, more scrubbing!” Coran barked.

“But Coraaaaaannn,” Lance whined. “Pidge and I didn’t make this mess, and it’s our day off!”

“Oh! So it is,” Coran said brightly. “Thank you for reminding me, Lance. All four of you can assist me with testing the systems, cleaning the pods, and—“

“On second thought, this is fine,” Lance groaned.

All four teens fell into a sullen silence, broken only by the sound of rubbing on slick surfaces occasionally punctuated by the slap of wet rags with what _definitely_ wasn’t an excessive amount of force. Coran’s exacting gaze never left them as the ginger man loomed overhead like a vulture. Gradually their rinse buckets turned a grimy brown-green and their hands a raw and chapped red, but at long last Coran pronounced the kitchen “clean enough”.

“And let that be a lesson to the lot of you!” Coran said sternly as he dismissed them.

“Sorry, Coran. Won’t happen again,” Hunk apologized sheepishly.

“Make sure that it doesn’t, or I’ll be the only one allowed in here!”

All four teens shuddered.

“There’s some initiative if there’s any,” Lance muttered under his breath. Pidge snickered.

“Wait!” Keith called.

Coran turned. “Yes, Number Four?”

“I…uh, nevermind,” Keith muttered.

Coran shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Hunk glanced at Keith. “Actually, I have a question,” he chimed in.

“Spit it out, then,” Coran huffed.

“Do you have any flour? You know, ground up grains for making bread and stuff?” Hunk inquired.

Coran twirled his mustache thoughtfully. “Even if the Castle did, it would be long spoiled by now. Why do you ask?"

“No reason—OW! Lance!” Keith glared as he rubbed his calf where Lance kicked him.

“’Cause we’re wanting to surprise Shiro,” Lance said evenly. “But, well, you saw what happened when someone left the Mullet unattended—“ 

_“HEY!”_

“—but, we’re kinda wanting to keep it secret from the big guy?”

“I see. Hmm…this is going to take some thought,” Coran mused.

“Wait, hold on a tic,” Pidge interjected. “If all the old food’s 10,000 years out of date, then why’s the foodgoo still edible?”

“Oh, that?” Coran chuckled. “The Castle combines stray elements to create it. You humans ask the strangest things.”

“Eww…you mean we’ve been eating synthetic food?” Hunk groaned.

“What’d you think it was?” Pidge scoffed.

“I was honestly trying not to think about it,” Hunk admitted. “Wait. Elements? So, it’s programmed to a chemical formula?”

“I suppose so,” Coran replied in bemusement.

“Guys,” Pidge snickered, “it’s a _replicator!!!_ ”

“Won’t do us much good,” Keith grumbled. “Not like any of us knows what Earth food looks like on a molecular level."

“Actually…” Lance smirked, then slapped Hunk on the back. “Greatest. Chef. Ever. Remember?”

Hunk blushed as he scratched his nape, but looked pleased all the same.

“Right,” Lance said. “So Hunk, Coran, and Keith are on food duty—“

“Wait, why am I still with food?” Keith asked.

“’Cause the cake was _your_ idea and started this mess. You _do_ have a design in mind, right? And know Shiro’s favorite flavors?”

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Perfect,” Lance said breezily.

“And I already called dibs on decorating and AV setup,” Pidge interjected. “…although, I could probably use Allura’s and the mice’s help,” she admitted.

“Absolutely not!” Coran protested. “Allura’s supposed to be resting!”

“It’s just a consulting role,” Pidge assured. “Unless you want to be the one who left her out?”

“Yeah, she was practically climbing _walls_ when you sent us on that wild goose chase for that Yalexian Pearl,” Hunk agreed.

“…FINE. But if she so much as lifts anything, or feels dizzy, I swear on the ancients I’ll—“

“Yep! Great, got it!” Pidge interrupted before dashing out of the kitchen.

“And then there were four,” Hunk quipped dramatically.

“But, if Hunk, Coran, and me are making the cake; and the girls and mice are getting the room set up, what’s Lance going to do?” Keith wondered aloud.

“Easy—I distract Shiro,” Lance smirked.

“You just wanna hang out with him,” Hunk chided teasingly.

“Exactly!” Lance agreed. “It’s a tough task, but I willingly make the sacrifice.”

“I’m sure,” Keith deadpanned.

_<^>_


	2. Operation: Shiro Watch

_“Right…just play it cool. Shiro’s a nice guy. He won’s bite…much. Just think you’re a dork and never let you near anything important, and—Okay, snap out of it, Lance. You sound like Hunk. Okay. I got this. Knocking, NOW—“_

Shiro’s eyebrows rose. He honestly thought Lance had gotten over his bit of hero-worship ages ago. Apparently not. Shiro mentally counted to three before opening the door. Lance yelped when his fist made contact with empty air inches from Shiro’s nose.

“Aaah!! Shiro! Hi!” Lance stammered.

“Hey, Lance,” Shiro replied casually.

“You…didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

“Hear what.”

Lance exhaled a breath of relief. “Doesn’t matter.”

A full dobosh ticked by. Lance hadn’t so much as shifted. Shiro stifled a sigh and squeezed past him along the doorframe. The door hissed shut, nearly snagging the hem of Shiro’s pant leg.

“Right…well, if you don’t anything I’ll be going over reports in the lounge,” Shiro finally said.

“No!” Lance exclaimed.

“No?” Shiro quirked an eyebrow.

“Errr…” Lance backpedaled. “I…was hoping you could spot me while training? Maybe give pointers, or…something?”

Shiro inwardly frowned. Apparently Lance _didn’t_ want him near the lounge. That wasn’t suspicious whatsoever. But if years being Matt’s best friend had taught him anything, it was that better to just play along verses tipping his hand. In which case…

“Sure thing, Lance,” Shiro grinned. “Suit up and meet me down on the training deck in ten.”

_<^>_

Shiro waved at Lance as he walked through the doors onto the training deck. The kid still looked ready to bolt and his answering grin just a tad too brittle to be genuine. Right. Time to get to the bottom of this.

“Right, um, so what’d you have in mind, Shiro?” Lance stammered.

“You’re the one who wanted help training, remember?” Shiro prodded gently.

“Right! Ah, well…um…”

Shiro suppressed a sigh. This was getting nowhere fast. “Let’s try this: come at me, and let’s see what we’re working with.”

“Wait. Right now? Wha—“ 

Shiro quickly kicked Lance’s legs out from under him, causing the younger Paladin to yelp in surprise as he went crashing to the floor. Lance quickly scrambled back onto his feet…only to find Shiro’s deactivated hand hovered in a point at Lance’s throat, and Shiro’s left hand pinning Lance’s arms to his sides.

“No fair!” Lance grunted. “You didn’t give me fair warning.”

“Technically I did,” Shiro replied casually. Right. So Lance’s hand-to-hand and grappling needed some work. Good to know. “Now. How are you going to escape?”

Lance writhed and squirmed as he tried to wrench his arms free, to no avail. Lance then threw all his weight to one side, then another, even downward. Shiro’s grip remained firm.

“You’re only tiring yourself out. What haven’t you tried yet?”

Lance’s bayard summoned into his hand. Shiro immediately increased the pressure slightly on Lance’s wrist and turned. The gun clattered onto the floor. Shiro immediately kicked it away.

“Aw c’mon!” Lance complained. “Can’t we try something else now?”

“Lance, calm down and _think,”_ Shiro instructed. “You’re not going to overpower me; I’ve got the advantage of size and mass. You could try summoning your bayard again, but chances are I’ll just disarm you again; and let’s assume you don’t have a weapon, anyway. What _haven’t_ you tried yet?”

Suddenly Lance’s head snapped back, narrowly avoiding Shiro’s windpipe. Shiro twisted his torso to avoid the hit. But that was just the opening Lance needed. He quickly sweeped his foot behind Shiro’s ankle, causing the bigger man to loose balance and finally loosen his grip enough for Lance to duck free and put a few feet in between himself and Shiro.

Lance summoned his bayard to his hands again, and pointed it at Shiro’s chest.

“Good!” Shiro enthused.

“Thanks—oh COME ON!!!” Lance panted as he fired a series of haphazard bolts on stun that went wide as Shiro rushed him again.

_<^>_

Lance collapsed to the floor, leaning heavily against the wall. “I am…never,” he gasped, “asking. For help…again!”

“Yes you will,” Shiro teased in singsong.

Shiro tossed an electrolyte-replinisher pack at Lance’s head. The kid groaned as he fumbled the dodge before finally catching it. Lance shot Shiro a baleful glare. Shiro merely grinned.

“Uuuugh. I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” Lance groaned. “Even that pipsqueak Pidge is better than me! And I’m like twice her size _and_ weight! And what is Keith? A ninja? I dunno…maybe Blue should’ve chosen someone else.”

Shiro frowned. He needed to nip this in the bud. _Now._ Before it developed into anything…hopefully. What would Commander Holt do? Shiro took a deep breath, then settled himself cross-legged onto the ground next to his teammate.

“Lance, hey. Look at me,” Shiro said softly.

Lance slowly turned, but mostly looked beyond him.

“Keith’s had to learn how to fend for himself, as had Pidge. I trained both of them before Kerberos, but I wish they hadn’t had to know those skills. And, well, nothing says ‘anime protagonist’ like a year’s worth of training montages. In _SPACE,”_ Shiro said lightly.

“I wish you wouldn’t joke about that,” Lance muttered.

“Hey,” Shiro said as he checked Lance’s shoulder lightly. “We’re talking about you. But I’ll try to keep the gallows humor to a minimum. Deal?”

“…Fine,” Lance agreed sulkily.

“I won’t lie to you, Lance. You’ve got a lot of training to do before your skills are honed—“

Lance deflated.

“—BUT. You’ve got sharp eyes and a keen mind when you let yourself slow down and evaluate the situation. And you’re already the best shot on our team by far.”

Lance gave a small, shy smile at the praise.

“But more importantly, you’re willing to work _with_ a team, but won’t blindly follow. That’s worth more to me than any set of skills. And Voltron certainly wouldn’t function so well without you,” Shiro finished encouragingly.

“Wow…uh, thanks, Shiro,” Lance flushed. “But, what if I’m just a placeholder for a better Blue Paladin?”

Shiro huffed in exasperation. “Word of advice, Lance? Just take the praise when you hear it. And do I really seem like the kind of guy who’d just say platitudes?”

“Well… I mean some of your speeches seem ripped straight from an old comic book,” Lance grinned wryly.

Shiro pulled at his face and groaned. “…Touché. Okay then, let’s do some math then.”

“Uuuugh, really? We’re not in class anymore, Shiro. Don’t need math,” Lance whined.

“Hush. Just hear me out,” Shiro chided. “The Lions haven’t had Paladins for ten thousand years, right? So that’s ten thousand years the Blue Lion had to look for a new Paladin. Of that time, most of it was spent on Earth.”

“Yeah, in a cave. In the desert,” Lance pointed out.

“True. But at some point someone must have discovered the Blue Lion, and left carvings to tell the Blue Lion’s legend,” Shiro continued.

“So, what’s your point?”

 “My  _point_  is, in ten thousand years,  _you_  were the Paladin the Blue Lion chose.  _You_. Not anyone else, not someone else on our team. When you feel tempted to doubt yourself, trust your Lion,” Shiro concluded.

Lance sat a bit straighter as his eyes brightened.

Shiro let out a sigh of relief as he rose to his feet, then held out a hand. Lance accepted it and allowed Shiro to pull him back upright. “Good. I dunno about you, but I could use some lunch right about now.”

“Wait! AH…HAh hah,” Lance stammered. “We…can’t go in the kitchen.”

“…Because?” Shiro dragged out.

“…Hunk made a mess? And Coran said it’s off limits, now?”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, but didn’t challenge it. For now.

“Duly noted,” Shiro huffed. “I’ll just ask Coran what the meal schedule is for the short term next chance I get.”

“Right!” Lance yelped. “You…do that.”

_<^>_

Steam billowed around the bathroom as Shiro toweled himself off after his post-workout shower. The condensation made the tiles cold and slick, prompting him to quickly stuff his feet into his lion slippers as he tied his robe, yet also fogged up completely any and all reflective surfaces. He…kinda looked like a ghost. Perfect. Better that than the scars. On impulse he drew round glasses and a bushy mustache over his fogged up reflection with his left index finger, then added a lightning bolt scar and a cat mouth for good measure. He chuckled to himself as he admired the result before finally wiping the mirror clean with a hand towel to banish the evidence. No need to get on Coran’s bad side.

Shiro sighed inwardly as he shrugged on his regular clothes once back in his room. Right. So for whatever reason Lance kept trying to herd him away from the lounge, and apparently the kitchen had been declared “off limits”, too. Which…unfortunately Lance’s excuse seemed pretty plausible. Even though Shiro was pretty sure Lance was lying. His stomach gurgled painfully in protest. Shiro grimaced. Right. Sealed off or not, he still needed to get something to eat. Coran would just have to deal with it. Tucking a datapad under his arm, Shiro left his room and made his way through the Castle’s corridors towards the kitchen. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. 

_“Now. Next we…”_ carried Hunk’s voice down the hall.

  _“Like this?”_ Keith’s asked hesitantly

_“No, that doesn’t seem quite right,”_  Coran disagreed.

Shiro scowled. That certainly didn’t sound like any sort of “kitchen disaster” on the scale Lance claimed. Sure it was no secret he didn’t have the same prowess in the kitchen as he did as a pilot or combatant, but they wouldn’t bar him from even working the foodgoo dispensers…would they?

_"Shhh! Someone’s coming!”_ Keith hissed.

_“I’ll see who it is,”_  Hunk murmured.

_“Can’t do, Number Two.”_

_“Oh…right,” Hunk replied._

__“_ So, should we h—“ _

_“SHHHH!!!”_

Right. Like that exchanged didn’t make Shiro even more suspicious whatsoever. That’s it. Past time he reached the bottom if this. Shiro stepped up to the kitchen door.

“Ah! Number One!” Coran greeted cheerily while leaning out of the doorway, effectively blocking Shiro’s view of inside the kitchen. “What can I do for ya?”

“Lance mentioned there might have been a…minor mishap,” Shiro replied, slipping easily into the same quietly-assured facade that charmed first his instructors then many of his old commanding officers, and now seemed to serve him well as Black Paladin, apparently. “I understand there is still much to do to repair the damage left by both Sendak’s attack and liberating the Balmera. I can take things from here.”

“No can do, Shiro,” Coran chirped. “This is your day off. Please do your best to enjoy it.”

“There really is no need,” Shiro pressed. “And the sooner this matter is resolved, the sooner we all can enjoy the rest of our day.”

“Fortunately these troubloons, are just nearly finished cleaning up their mess,” Coran declined. “And let that be a lesson to the lot of ya!” he added fiercely. Beyond Coran Shiro heard Hunk and Keith yelp.

“Well, great!” Shiro said in relieved surprise. “Then you won’t mind if I get a bowl of foodgoo,” he replied while trying to duck around Coran through the narrow space.

Coran instantly flashed out an arm, causing Shiro to stumble as he tried to avoid getting clotheslined. “Sorry, Number One,” Coran barked. “I didn’t think anyone would be in the kitchen for the next several varga; I’d already a reset cycle for those systems before I caught Numbers Two and Four in here red-handed.”

Shiro tried to swallow the instant flash of disappointment back down as his stomach again twisted painfully. “…Alright then. Guess I’ll just be on the bridge if anyone needs me.” With that he turned on his heel and forced his posture straight as tried not to stalk away in irritation.

_“Quiznack. Think I offended him.”_

_“You…don’t think he suspects anything, do you?”_

_“Maybe we should give Pidge and Allura a heads up…just in case.”_

Shiro deliberately didn’t turn around to continue listening. At this point he simply didn’t care.

_<^>_ 


	3. Party of ONE

Shiro stared blankly at the holodisplay as he sat slumped at his Black Paladin station—somehow he missed Coran filching his datapad during their earlier exchange, as apparently the older man did indeed intend to enforce the “day off”. Bully for him. Which…if he’d been banned from reviewing reports and apparently even entering the kitchen and lounge, that really only left the bridge.

But after struggling for several doboshes to make sense of the solid flotsam of ten thousands years’ worth of data with no current reports to guide him, Shiro finally conceded it a “lost cause” with a frustrated sigh, and instead flipped screens to reveal the starmap Allura used barely a week earlier. Unfamiliar stars and systems flooded the room, glowing a faint pale blue in the relative dark as the lights automatically dimmed. Which was…nice. Except the blue once again faded to an angry orange-red, with only small pockets of blue islands in the otherwise angry sea of stale distress beacons.

Shiro rubbed his metal hand over his face, then flinched back at the sudden cool metal in place of warm flesh. Right. This wasn’t helping. Idly he glanced at Allura’s pedestal and contemplated trying to turn the red off—temporarily, of course. It’d just be nice to just let the stars just be _stars_ again. No Galra. No Voltron.

The map flickered, then vanished in a series of sparkles that hovered briefly in the air before scattering and dissipating. Which really was a quite pretty shutdown sequence for a piece of technology to have, Shiro mused, but he couldn’t quite find it in him to appreciate the timing. Not when his “enjoyable” day off so far seemed to be shaping up to be anything but. He stifled a sigh then rose to walk towards Allura’s station. Maybe her displays would have some sort of master control, after all.

The bridge doors hissed open just as Shiro belatedly remembered that Allura’s station was keyed to only respond to Altean biology, specifically, and his metal hand caught halfway inside an open panel and tangled in chords.

“Um, Shiro, _what_ are you doing?” Allura demanded crisply.

Shiro’s head snapped back in shock to see a highly skeptical alien princess towering over him, flanked by a snickering Pidge and the gaggle of mice chittering in bemusement. He quickly tried to wrench his prosthetic free from the console, only to barely suppress a wince when doing so tugged painfully at his stump’s ragged scars.

“I…” His brain fritzed. Right. Way to look like an idiot in front of the one person on board who _definitely_ outranked him. That certainly wouldn’t cast doubt on her decision to trust him as her new Black Paladin whatsoever. And Pidge’s cat-ate-the-canary grin with her new short hair and Matt’s old glasses was even _less_ of a help. Shiro pointedly refused to look at her. He straightened his shoulders and snapped to an attentive posture. Well. _Tried_ to, anyway. Hard to succeed with his arm still stuck. “I wanted to study the starmaps, Princess. But then the power went down.”

Mentally he congratulated himself for shoving the nervous waver out of his voice. He tried once again to stand, only to be tugged back down by his arm with a yelp. Oh, right. _That._

Allura erupted into giggles barely contained behind a clamped hand over her mouth. “Oh, Shiro. Let me help you.”

Shiro averted his gaze, mortified, as Allura crouched down next to him and the mice chattered enthusiastically as they scampered down his arm and squeezed past him through the hole to inside the panel. Tics later he was free with the mice untangling him from within and Allura gently maneuvering his arm from without.  “I didn’t damage anything, did I?” he asked glumly.

“No damage has been done,” Allura assured him.

“Except maybe to your ego,” Pidge snarked.

Allura giggled sheepishly again as Shiro grinned wryly. Normally he wouldn’t care being the butt of the joke, especially if it got Allura to smile again. And really, he _was_ glad that she apparently felt well enough to be walking about without Coran hounding her. But today? Today it just stuck as where normally it’d slide right off. “So, what brings you both here?” he asked, attempting to change the subject.

“Hmm?” Pidge hummed. “Oh. I wanted to try running a new program, but the power flaked out, so I asked Allura how to fix it.”

“And then we saw that an excessive drain was coming from the bridge,” Allura concluded. “I apologize, Shiro. I didn’t know anyone was there and assumed it was leftover damage from Sendak’s crystal when I told the Castle to redirect it. And it will be some time before the bridge’s systems are accessible again.”

Shiro tried very, very hard to keep his back straight as he flashed a weary smile. “…Oh. Is there anything I can h—“

“Sorry, Shiro, but Allura and I are just about finished. And I need some me-time,” Pidge interrupted.

Allura sighed in frustration. “And I had better get back to resting, or Coran will become quite impossible.”

Shiro felt his smile fracture. “Guess I’ll leave you both to it, then.”

_<^>_

Shiro’s gazed up at the Black Lion. Power and majesty radiated from her just like the first time he laid eyes on her what already felt like a lifetime ago. Well, at least three, Shiro thought as he chuckled dryly to himself. “I hope you don’t mind me visiting…just, I really don’t want to be alone right now. And I can’t find things to keep busy, and—“ Shiro paused mid tirade. The Black Lion was unquestionably the being whose authority _definitely_ trumped Allura’s about who, exactly, was chosen to fly with her and lead Voltron. Yet here he was, whining like a child who’d had their toys taken and been told “no.” 

There…was probably a joke in there. Matt definitely would’ve found it. The reminder made his chest ache.

So Shiro straightened his posture, and tried to look the part of the “decisive Head” Black Lion needed. A deep rumbling filled his ears as her eyes briefly flashed gold before darkening again, followed by the sensation of a cat bunting their head against the nape of his neck before scent marking with their cheek.

_Mine,_ the Black Lion seemed to be saying.

Shiro exhaled a shaky sigh as he finally allowed his shoulders to drop. The Black Lion lowered herself until her great metal paws tucked neatly underneath her hull, then opened her mouth and extended her ramp in clear invitation. Shiro stiffly walked up the ramp and into her waiting maw. Her jaw clicked shut behind him. Immediately the sensation of a great cat twining herself between his legs as he walked and lingering her tail drooped over his metal arm as the cat tried settling around his neck and shoulders greeted him. His eyes pricked and vision blurred as he continued to stumble his way to the pilot’s seat. The great mental weight of a giant head settled onto his lap and huffed a sigh once he seated.

“…why didn’t you come?” he finally asked in a strained whisper. “You saved me from that mechanical monster. Why…why didn’t you stop Sendak?”

A pressure behind his eyes tugged at his eyelids. Rather than fight it, Shiro obliged.

_White-hot light of her fury erupted from her maw. Paladin! Her Paladin was calling! The doors remained sealed. Not even a scorch mark etched their surface._

_Altea burned. Her Pride! Where were they? Her old Paladin’s presence grew weaker. Her Paladin was gone._

_She blasted light for phoebs. But even shut down and in disrepair, the Castle’s doors remained sealed. The Black Lion curled in on herself, great wings drooped over her form as her particle barrier activated and her great consciousness drifted into hibernation._

Shiro’s eyes snapped open. “…You tried.” He chuckled wetly at the mental equivalent of a great tongue trying to lick away the moisture that still refused to fall. “I’m such a fool. Here I went and told Lance to trust his Lion, yet I doubted you.”

Black Lion’s telepathic purr grew to a deafening buzz between his ears and behind his eyes as the force of their bond once again manifested as more insistent bunting. _Mine… Mine…_

Shiro threw back his head and laughed full heartedly as he did his best to send back his own telepathic strokes and chin scratches in response.

_“Uh…Shiro?”_ Lance’s voice crackled over Black Lion’s radio.

Black Lion mentally growled as she straightened back into a crouch and threw up her particle barrier.

“Whoa, hey, easy,” Shiro soothed. “He’s not going to hurt me. No one will hurt either of us ever again, alright? And definitely not our Team.”

Black Lion grumbled, but dropped her particle barrier and lowered her neck.

“Yeah, I’m here, Lance. What’s going on?” Shiro replied through Black Lion’s com.

_“Hey man!”_ Lance exclaimed in relief. _“You kinda disappeared on me. Been looking everywhere for you.”_

“Yeah, sorry,” Shiro laughed lightly. “I decided to press my luck about getting something from the kitchen. You really weren’t joking about Coran.”

_“I told you!”_ Lance chided.

“Yeah, yeah, so you did,” Shiro acknowledged wryly. “Any chance the foodgoo machines are back up and running?”

_“Uh…”_ Lance faltered.

Shiro snorted. So whatever the others were up to still included the kitchen. But if Coran and Allura were apparently involved, then whatever it was his Team wanted to keep secret from him couldn’t be _too_ catastrophic.

_“Actually…”_ Lance continued, _“I was hoping you could go over how to work the Altean pods with me? I mean, we already found out the hard way we won’t always have our Lions, and—“_

“Hey, sure thing, Lance,” Shiro cut in gently. “But, ah, I don’t think you need to worry about the Lions. Meet me in the pods’ hanger.”

_“No need, Shiro,”_ Lance quickly replied. _“I’ve got a datapad with the pods’ schematics already. So, maybe meet in the lounge?”_

Shiro’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. Now his Team wasn’t trying to herd him away from there? “Okay…sure. But you’re probably going to have it stick better actually sitting in the cockpit,” Shiro advised as he cut the transmission.

“…and maybe _now_ I’ll finally see what you all are up to,” he muttered.

_<^>_

The lounge doors opened. Shiro immediately blinked as his eyes adjusted to the relative gloom and softly swirling colors. The room was full of…stars? He…he knew those constellations and nebulae. He slowly strode into the room in awe and passed the Serpens, absentmindedly brushing his fingers along the Eagle Nebula’s holographic surface. Rigel, Deneb, Sirius, Antares…they were all here. His pulse quickened when he finally spotted the Sun, the humble star’s solar system enlarging to show its planets’ and their moons’ rotations the closer he walked towards it. Pluto, Jupiter, Mars…and there it was. Earth. Their relatively small blue planet, yet compared to a Balmera it now felt massive, then easily dwarfed again by just their home galaxy alone, nevermind the remaining ninety percent of the universe he now knew existed.

 A new, smaller, much warmer light caught the corner of his eye. His gaze lowered until it rested…on a constellation of candles on a cake? Yes, that really was a cake, on a table in front of the sectional, surrounded by other foods. His stomach twisted yet again in loud protest as the smell wafted through the room. And now that his eyes weren’t so engrossed by a literal _galaxy_ shrunk into the room that’d put any planetarium to shame (and, well, Allura’s starmap, for that matter…) his ears picked up Commander Holt’s old light rock playlist playing softly in the background.

“What is all this?” he finally murmured.

Keith, Hunk, Lance, Pidge, Allura and Coran slowly materialized out of the background. “Happy birthday, Shiro,” Keith said. “I…uh. I made a cake. Hunk and Coran helped. Actually, they did most of it.”

“Not so, Number Four,” Coran chastised cheerfully. “It was a team effort.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agreed. “And you already had an idea what flavors to use and how it should look. We just helped make it happen.”

“So, you were all in on it,” Shiro said.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Lance confirmed.

“How long were all of you standing there?” Shiro asked incredulously.

“Long enough,” Allura smirked. “I do admit that this particular feature of the starmap is quite lovely.”

Shiro huffed a laugh. “Lovely” didn’t quite cover it. “So when you and Pidge shut down the starmap on the bridge…?”

“We really did need that extra power to run _this_ version of the map,” Pidge admitted sheepishly.

“And the kitchens…?” Shiro prompted with a pointed look at Coran, Keith, and Hunk.

“I…kinda made a mess with my first attempt,” Keith flushed.

“’Mess’ is an understatement if there ever was one,” Lance drawled. “But we stuck with that excuse because…it’s partially true? Only no one would question if Hunk did it—(“ _Never_ make me do that again, guys,” Hunk groused.)—but since when is Keith ever in there?”

“And the foodgoo machines?” Shiro asked.

“Oh those really were offline,” Coran replied. “But instead of the system needing to reset, Hunk and I were reprogramming them to produce the ingredients we didn’t have on hand.”

_“It’s a_ Replicator _,”_ Pidge whispered loudly.

“Still not as good as fresh,” Hunk muttered.

“I…” Shiro swallowed. “I can’t believe you guys put in so much effort. How long were you planning this?”

“Just today,” Pidge assured him. “It’s Keith’s fault for trying to make a cake!”

“Hunk’s the one who took things to the extreme,” Keith mumbled.

“Yeah…but you all would’ve been lost without Yours Truly running interference,” Lance pronounced smugly.

“No offence, Lance, but you kinda lost track of Shiro,” Hunk pointed out mildly.

“You guys aren’t the one that had him wipe the floor with you!” Lance protested. “And I found him again…kinda.”

“Clearly it was a group effort,” Shiro placated while choking on laughter. “But, you all are aware it isn’t actually my birthday?”

“Yeah, we know,” Lance shrugged. “But considering you missed one and all? We decided to throw you one, anyway. Well…after Keith tried being Betty Crocker, anyway.”

“Alright, alright,” Shiro chuckled as he tried to swallow the rapidly forming lump in this throat. He held out his right forearm to Keith and pulled him in for an embrace, while holding his left arm open. Pidge eagerly ducked under and squeezed him around his ribs—he managed to _not_ flinch away at the sudden movement this time, but still stiffened slightly at the sudden contact—before Lance, Allura, Hunk, and Coran joined in. If anyone noticed Shiro hiding his face in Pidge’s unruly hair and felt his form shake slightly, they politely didn’t comment, nor broke contact until Shiro himself released them, first.

“Are we done hugging now? Or can we get to the cake?” Keith groused.

Shiro laughed again wetly as he pulled Keith back in for another hug and ruffled his hair for good measure. Keith squawked in protest and moodily tried to smooth his hair back down. “And _that’s_ for trying to trick me,” Shiro drawled gleefully. “So tell me about this cake,” he said while sobering.

Hunk crossed his arms. “Nope! Gotta try it first. Chef’s orders.”

“Buddy, he can’t do that before he blows out the candles!” Lance protested.

“Wait, we don’t have to sing, do we?” Keith panicked.

“Uh, _you’re_ the one who insisted on the cake?” Pidge deadpanned.

“Wait, cakes have a ritual where you sing to them before consumption?” Coran asked, perplexed.

“No, they don’t…well, not exactly,” Shiro interjected, then amended. “But as it’s not really my birthday, no, Keith, you don’t have to sing.”

Hunk and Lance groaned while Keith deflated in relief. Pidge merely shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just blow out your candles already,” she griped.

Shiro closed his eyes, contemplated for a moment, then blew out all twenty-four candles in one go.

“Ewwww,” Pidge cackled. “There better not be spit in that!” 

Shiro quirked an eyebrow. “Should’ve thought about that before sticking so many on there. Wait…why is there a ‘six’ on my cake?!”

“You’re seeing things, Shiro,” Pidge deadpanned. “Clearly that’s a galaxy swirl.”

“Wait. What’s the big deal about the ‘six’?” Hunk asked.

“Piiiiiiiiidge…” Shiro drawled in warning. Pidge cackled as she ducked away from Shiro’s outstretched hand as he attempted to grab the back of her collar.

Keith shrugged. “Shiro’s birthday is February twenty ni—“

“Keith!” Shiro squawked.

“Oh…my…god!” Lance chortled. “You’re a _Leap Year_ baby?! How did I not know this!”

“Because I blackmailed Matt into changing my file,” Shiro grumbled.

“What is the significance of a ‘leap year’? Does your system experience time dilations?” Allura asked.

“Not really?” Pidge answered as she edged closer back to the group, but stayed out of Shiro’s reach. “We just sometimes have an extra day in our solar year.”

“Oh,” Allura said with interest. “That sounds fascinating.”

“It really isn’t,” Shiro sulked.

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” Lance teased. Shiro glared at him balefully.

“And this ‘six’ symbol is…?” Coran pressed.

“Oh, that?” Pidge snorted. “Shiro’s _real_ birthday only comes every four… _decaphoebs_? Whatever. Years for us, the math isn’t exact. And someone’s who’s six is literally a kid to us.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Hilarious. I’m taking my cake now,” Shiro said wryly.

The group dropped the subject in favor of slicing the cake and serving both the dessert and tea sandwiches and other snacks. (“How did you manage to do chocolate _and_ oreo?” Shiro exclaimed. “Chef’s secret, Shiro,” Hunk said smugly. “And is that raspberry frosting?” Shiro inquired. “Junipberry, actually. Coran kept a flavor profile,” Allura corrected, quite pleased.) After everyone ate their fill, Hunk and Coran cleared away the food while Pidge and Allura reset the systems from showing the planetarium to instead project a movie against the far wall from off Pidge’s laptop. Lance had vanished at some point after the meal to gather extra pillows and blankets for the movie. Shiro settled onto the sectional with Keith next to him.

“So…uh, you like the surprise?” Keith asked hesitantly.

Shiro grinned softly. “Now that I know what it is and what you guys have been up to all day? Yeah, yeah I do.”

Keith exhaled a sigh of relief. “Good. And…sorry if we hurt your feelings, earlier.”

Shiro colored slightly. They noticed that? Guess that meant he’d have to be more careful about how he conducted himself in the future. “…don’t worry about it,” he finally said awkwardly.

Keith frowned. “Maybe I’m the last one to have room to talk, but? Um…we’re all here to listen. Or try, anyway.”

Shiro sighed. “I know. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet. And this isn’t something I want you guys to worry about. It’s my job to keep you four safe, not yours to deal with my problems.”

“None of us see it that way,” Keith pressed, but let the matter drop.

Lance returned moments later and plopped his stack of blankets and pillows onto Keith, earning an irritated growl from the latter as he shoved the pile burying him onto the free seat next to him instead. Lance then produced a soft parcel from where it was tucked under his arm and handed it to Shiro. Shiro accepted it, then did a double-take. “Lance, what are you wearing.”

“Lion-onesie,” Lance grinned. “My slippers felt lonely.”

Shiro shook his head in amusement, fingers feeling for the parcel’s seam, then paused.

“Aw, c’mon, Shiro. Just open it. Please?” Lance pleaded, eyes widening innocently as his lower lip trembled.

Shiro stared back blankly as his sense of foreboding increased. “Sorry, Lance. I’ve had two Holt gremlins and hordes of cadets over the years to make me immune to ‘puppy dog eyes’.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. But at least open it? I actually worked really hard on that after you vanished on me all afternoon.”

“…Dammit Lance. Now you’re trying to guilt me into it,” Shiro protested.

“Did it work?” Lance asked hopefully.

Shiro ripped open the paper with excessive force while staring pointedly at Lance. Lance cackled as Shiro shook the folds out of a Black Lion onesie. Complete with quilted red wings. “Really, Lance?” Shiro sighed.

“Hey, everyone has their own, too,” Lance shrugged. “And when better for everyone to wear them but Team Movie Night?”

Sure enough, Pidge, Allura, Hunk, and Coran reemerged wearing Green and Yellow Lion onesies of their own (or, as in the case of Allura and Coran, White with pink and turquoise accents, and Navy with gold and orange). Shiro glanced sideways at Lance. “How on Earth…?”

“Technically, ‘how in SPACE’, Shiro,” Hunk quipped.

“I…kinda maybe got a teensy bit carried away after I made yours?” Lance squirmed.

“ _Replicators_ , Shiro,” Pidge sang.

Keith crossed his arms stubbornly. “Well, _I’m_ not wearing mine.”

Oho. Well in that case…

“You know what? You’re right. The slippers _are_ rather lonely, Lance,” Shiro conceded breezily. “C’mon, Keith, let’s play along just this once.” Keith huffed a frustrated growl but headed out all the same. Shiro flashed an impish grin to the others as he snatched up his own garment and followed Keith through the doors.

_<^>_


	4. Lion Pride

Shiro stared at his reflection in the mirror. With the hood up the onesie literally covered him head to wrist to ankle—a pair of grippy toebeans spa socks and a single fingerless glove with optional mitten and thumb flaps and yet another toebeans pattern on its palm fell out when he put the garment on—and easily covered his scars, leaving his white forelock poking out underneath the eared hood and the scar over his nasal bridge the only visual reminders of his year of captivity. Shiro raised and flexed his prosthetic experimentally. His right sleeve for once didn’t catch on the metal joints or snag against his scars, or otherwise hinder his movement in any way. Yet it did have a clasp and zipper to make cuffing it back or outright removing it easier. For now Shiro left the sleeve alone, relishing how it also hid the ugly prosthetic.

Out of sight, out of mind. He just looked like…him. Shiro. Not the Champion. Perfect.

He made a few faces to match the ridiculous outfit and laughed at the result, long and hard. He might never admit it, but this really was much than drawing on a fogged up mirror. And seeing a visual—albeit ridiculously simplified and borderline cartoony—representation of Black Lion with him? Yeah, that was even better. He felt Black Lion curiously nosing him through their mental link then huff in amusement at his reflection.

“I’m sure I could ask Lance to make you a matching one. Maybe a black and white cap for the hair, a sleeve for the arm. And I’m sure Hunk or Coran has some washable pink paint for the sca—“

The mental equivalent of a tail whapped the back of his head, followed by a low growl. _I am the Black Lion._

“…maybe not, then,” Shiro chuckled sheepishly.

Black Lion huffed as her mental presence retreated back to the equivalent of a doze.

Shiro sent a gentle mental rub between her ears as he stuffed his socked feet into his Lion slippers and stepped out of his room. Black Lion hummed in pleasure.

_<^>_

Five sets of eyes immediately focused on Shiro when he reentered the lounge. By now the movie’s start menu screen cycled through its animation and music several times…and did they actually set up a pillowfort?! Keith pointedly refused to look at him as the older teen sat hunched over with crossed arms against the fort’s far corner as he sulked.

Shiro quirked an eyebrow, then flicked his right wrist. “Nya,” he deadpanned.

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk cheered as Keith buried his face in his paws and groaned, and the Alteans watched the exchange in bemusement. Shiro chuckled to himself as he crawled into the fort himself and snagged a spot between Keith and Allura, with Pidge and Lance crowding in front of his legs, and Hunk finding a spot in front of Coran next to Lance. Hunk slid a bowl of snacks his direction, but Shiro declined with a slight shake of his head and a soft smile.

“I actually have something of my own for you,” Allura murmured low enough for only him to hear.

“Thank you, Princess, but you really didn’t have—“ Shiro protested awkwardly.

“Hush, and let me explain,” Allura ordered gently. She then reached into her White Lion onesie’s pocket and produce a black metallic armlet inlayed with smooth blue-green crystals of the same cut and pattern as her diadem. “Try it on,” she enthused.

Wordlessly he accepted the small semicircle from her proffered hand and slipped it over his prosthetic until it rested just under where it grafted to bone. To his wonder, the armlet’s metal had enough give stretch over the metal of his arm without scraping or snagging the sleeve, yet retained its shape enough to fit snuggly without sliding back down.

“How does it fit?”

“Wonderful,” Shiro answered honestly. “But how—“

“The Black Lion allowed me to take a bit of metal from her core, once I explained my request. And while we were on the Balmera Shay and her grandmother gifted me with more crystals while conveying their thanks.”

“So, you made this?” Shiro surmised. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes it is,” Allura agreed. “But it actually serves a purpose. I combined the crystals with a few simple alchemic prayers my mother taught me to promote eased sleep, or at least reduced nightmares. And your Lion’s metal will stay your hand, if need be. Shiro, with this you can rest easy. You will not cause harm without your consent.”

Suddenly Lance’s insistence on making silly matching pajamas other than the ones Coran originally distributed when they first arrived, and the Team suddenly rearranging the lounge made much more sense. Shiro felt his face flush again. He felt suddenly been exposed.

“But—“

“This one I’ve been planning on my own,” Allura assured him. “You are under my command, and that makes it _my_ responsibility to ensure _your_ wellbeing. Tonight just seemed the right time to finally give it to you.”

Shiro found it hard to argue with that logic.

“And designing it also provided something for me to do while Coran sent you after that Yalexian Pearl without me,” Allura said smugly. “Just don’t tell Coran. He’ll become impossible.”

Shiro chuckled then winked conspiringly. “Scout’s honor, Princess.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just an old Earth saying.”

Allura hummed her understanding, then turned her attention to Coran and Hunk.

“What’d Allura want?” Keith asked.

“Mmm? Oh, she mostly just reminded me to take my own advice,” Shiro grinned wryly.

The tension in Keith’s shoulders eased. “Good. Someone should.”

Shiro retaliated by knocking Keith’s shoulder playfully with his own.

Once everyone settled, Pidge reached over and pressed play on her laptop before closing its lid. The opening credits played, and the humans occasionally broke into cheers, song, quoting, and snarking only to get snapped at by Keith for talking over the dialogue. They continued to pause and occasionally rewind the film after each interruption—especially when either Coran or Allura asked about a specific piece of Earth culture or body language, or the increasingly common phrase or word getting completely garbled by the Castle’s universal translator, which naturally sparked more debates and teasing about which Team member was right and which ones were clearly nothing but idiots.

Shiro closed his eyes and let it wash over him. His friends’ chatter and the movie’s audio blurred into a nonsensical but nonthreatening buzz as he fell into a doze. His chest rose and fell as a bit more tension melted from his shoulders as he slumped against Keith’s shoulder. Shiro stirred slightly with a disgruntled hum when he vaguely felt Keith shift against his mass, but settled again after he felt himself being lowered onto a pillow against someone’s lap and a blanket’s weight unfurling over him.

“Wait. Is he actually asleep?” Hunk hissed.

“Yeah…I think so. You sure your legs aren’t gonna go numb on you, Mullet?” Lance asked in a low murmur.

“I’m fine,” Keith said stubbornly. Shiro felt Keith shift again as he crossed his arms.

“Don’t actually respond to that,” Pidge muttered.

“No,” Shiro slurred.

“Aw, quiznack. We woke him,” Hunk groaned.

“Language,” Shiro muttered mildly.

“I understood that reference,” Keith quipped, earning a chorus of startled giggles from the others.

“What reference?!” Coran demanded, only to be shushed by five others and a pointed glare courtesy of Allura.

Shiro chuckled softly. “Next movie night. We’ll watch that one.”

“No, no way. They have to start at the beginning, and—“ Hunk protested, only to get shushed as well. “Right. Shutting up now.”

Shiro sighed in contentment, shifted so that his back was against the sectional and his face towards the fort’s exit and the glowing wall, then slipped into a true sleep.

_<^>_

Shiro bolted upright, chest heaving, lungs burning, heart hammering. His right hand hovered at a point in front of his face as he desperately continued to gulp down breath. It was dark. Why was it dark. Something pinned him. Move. He needed to move. _Now._  

His right arm ached and itched. He _knew_ he wouldn’t actually feel flesh and skin there but, it still felt like a shot to the chest when his fingers made contact with chilled metal and throbbing scars instead. A bump that _definitely_ wasn’t part of that grafted Galran prosthetic met his probing fingers. He immediately yanked it off in a panic, nearly snagging his pajama sleeve. Instantly his right hand flared an angry fuchsia. Shiro willed it to shut off, then opened his left hand.

A…bracelet. What…?

Someone yawned and stretched next to him. He immediately flinched away from the sound, but inadvertently knocked into someone else. The other being merely rolled over and heaved an Earth-shattering snore. What. Where _was_ he?

“Oh…I hoped it would work. I’m so sorry, Shiro.”

“P-princess Allura?” Shiro called hesitantly.

“Yes, it’s me. Do you remember where you are?’

“The Castle…” Shiro surmised in sleep-addled confusion. “But—“

“Yes,” Allura confirmed. “We were watching a moving picture, and you fell asleep.”

Shiro carefully powered his hand again. Five sleeping bodies, a tent of blankets, and one concerned alien princess staring back at him. The fort’s exit glowed the faint blue of the Castle’s night cycle at his back. Right. That definitely explained why he was apparently wearing some sort of Lion costume outside his room. His teeth tasted like brownies. He deactivated his hand again.

“My Team wanted to surprise me,” he murmured aloud as his brain slowly recollected the previous day’s events.

“Yes. And I gave you a bracelet to aid your sleep. But I woke you your light, anyway. It didn’t _work!”_ Allura concluded in disappointed frustration.

Shiro blinked as realization dawned on him. “Allura…I think it _did_.”

“How?” Allura demanded.

Shiro stared down at his hands, grateful that the dark didn’t allow Allura to see him flush self-consciously. “…because my hand wasn’t glowing. It didn’t activate until after I removed your charm by accident. I didn’t disturb anyone by…” he trailed off. He couldn’t say it. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

Allura reached over and squeezed both his hands gently. “You have nothing to apologize for, Shiro. We may be leaders, but we take care of our own. And our own takes care of us. That is Voltron.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth at her words. How different from the chain of command hammered into him by repetition while within the Garrison’s ranks this was. Yet wasn’t Voltron also how Commander Holt insisted on leading? “I’ll do my best to remember,” he promised.

Allura’s eyes softened. “Good. And I am glad that my gift worked, albeit not as well as intended.”

Shiro flashed a cheeky grin. “Hey, this is still the best sleep I’ve gotten in nights, so I’ll take it.”

Allura whapped him with her pillow. “ _That_ is hardly reassuring, Paladin. Get some rest.”

Shiro mock-bowed before slipping the armlet back on and reclaiming his abandoned spot. “Duly noted, Princess.” He grinned at her huff of annoyance as sleep once again claimed him.

_<^>_

Soft yellow light signaling the Castle’s day cycle spilled into the fort when Shiro next woke. He yawned as he stretched, then immediately pulled a face. Egh. Stale brownie and algae. His favorite. He _definitely_ should’ve woken up enough to brush his teeth after the movie once he realized his friends had planned an outright _sleepover._ Gradually the others woke and stirred in a series of grumbling moans and chuckling at nothing in particular. Hunk interjected “chickenbutt” into the sudden silence, prompting hysterical laughter from Lance and Pidge, nervous chuckling from Coran and Allura, and a smack to the face courtesy of Keith’s pillow.

Shiro stealthily snagged a spare pillow and lobbed it at Lance underhandedly.

“HEY!” Lance yelped.

“Keith did it!” Shiro said innocently.

“What?!” Keith squawked. “No I didn—MFFF!”

“Eat feathers, Mullet!”

“Oh YEAH?!” Keith grinned ferally as he hurled a pillow haphazardly back at Lance. Lance yelped as he quickly flung himself to one side.

“ACK!” Pidge snapped as she took the pillow to her glasses instead.

“Oh, shoot, Pidge! They’re not broken are—“

Lance took a pillow to the face for his trouble. “Alright, that’s it! I take back my apology, ya gremlin!"

Pidge cackled as she smacked Lance again for good measure. (Although she did stick Matt’s glasses back in their case and slid them into her pocket for safekeeping.)

“PILLOW FIGHT!!!” Hunk shouted.

Outright pandemonium broke loose as his friends finally hurled pillows his way, which he batted back with his own, causing them to ricochet into Allura and Coran. Coran immediately scolded the Paladins for the hit, only for Allura to smugly smack Coran from behind. All reservations were gone after that, replaced instead by a free-for-all that quickly turned one-sided in Allura’s favor.

_“Mercy!”_ they wheezed as the collapsed back onto the ruined fort and haphazard pillows strewn around.

“Do you think the _Galra_ would show mercy to those they’ve vanquished?” Allura crowed gleefully.

“Well, I suppose it’s in our favor that our Princess _isn’t_ Galran,” Shiro quipped.

The others quickly nodded their agreement. Allura graciously conceded her victory at that, earning a collective sigh of relief from the others. Coran then clapped his hands together, insisting that the Paladins clean up their mess as he herded Allura back to her bedroom for some _proper_ rest after tiring herself out. Shiro silently marveled how the work of an entire day quickly became reversed in a matter of moments.

Lance’s stomach growled loudly. “So, uh, Hunk ol’ buddy. What’s for breakfast?”

Hunk sighed. “Foodgoo, once the systems finish resetting themselves from yesterday, unfortunately."

“Buddy, you’re killing me! You mean after Pidge making ‘replicator’ jokes for literally _hours—“_

“Vargas,” Pidge interjected.

“What?” Lance blinked.

“Making Replicator jokes for _vargas_ ,” Pidge quipped. “And hey, those were brilliant!”

“It’s probably for the best,” Shiro sighed. “We don’t want to get too spoiled.”

“Not gonna happen, Shiro. Fresh is _always_ better,” Hunk insisted.

“… _Anyway_ ,” Shiro continued. “Replicators always needed rations.”

“Only in _Voyager_. Which nobody watches that one,” Pidge snorted.

“Hey! Janeway’s the best captain!” Shiro protested.

“Hunk, kill me. My hero’s turned out to be a giant _neeeerrrrd_ ,” Lance wailed.

Keith quirked an eyebrow. “Shiro’s literally an astronaut, Lance. What’d you expect?”

Lance sulked and Keith flushed slightly in embarrassment as Shiro looped both Paladins into a playful headlock underneath each arm as Pidge and Hunk continued to lead the way to the linen’s closet to stash the bedding they used the night before. With a pang of panic Shiro realized that today was the day Allura scheduled for Sendak’s interrogation. He slowly inhaled a breath, then exhaled it slower still. He was their leader—if a group of teens could handle it, then so could he.

He had his friends, and he had his Lion. All Sendak had was a pod. What was the worst that could happen?

_<^>_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaaaand that brings up to the morning of "Crystal Venom". Sorry, Shiro. I'd hate myself for the implied dramatic irony at your expense if I wasn't so gleefully proud about how I tied things back together.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed reading my first (posted) fic. I certainly enjoyed writing it, although it's prolly a BIT on the nose for the event LOL. (And apologies if there's any formatting weirdness. Computers, apps, and technology are NOT my strongest point lol.)
> 
> Tiger out.


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